A Chance Encounter
by prettycreepy
Summary: Rafael Barba x OC Margo Reinhardt


It was past six o'clock when Rafael finally left his office behind, running late for an appointment at his tailor's. Rain pattered steadily on the taxi window while he answered emails and returned calls to pass the time. When he finally arrived at the establishment he had a well-crafted excuse planned for Alan, the man who had sold him suits for the past seven years, but it wasn't Alan behind the counter that evening.

A woman in her mid – twenties with long dark hair and a tape measure hanging around her neck sat in the place Alan usually occupied. Deep brown eyes looked up at him as she marked the page she was reading and set the book down.

"You're new." He said as he stepped up to the counter, his briefcase case hanging at his side.

"You're late." She quipped back and smiled, slipping off the stool she was seated on. "Alan had a death in the family, had to go out of town for the funeral. I'm keeping an eye on the store and covering all his appointments. That is, unless you would prefer to reschedule?"

"No, of course not."

"Great, I'm Margo. You're Mr. Barba?"

"Rafael, please."

"Alright, Rafael. Well it says in the appointment book you're here to pick up two suits and get a third tailored?"

"Sounds right."

"Okay, well follow me back to the fitting rooms and we'll get started."

Rafael followed her down the short hallway where he changed quickly, stopping in a moment of vanity to check in hair in the mirror. A moment later he rejoined Margo who was standing ready with a cushion full of pins. It was an interesting change of pace compared to his past appointments and he had to admit that her company was a bit more captivating than Alan's.

"Have you been tailoring long?"

She smiled as she pinned one of his sleeves, her fingers just barely brushing his wrists as she moved. "Oh, it was always a hobby of sorts. I just got back into town and Alan needed the help, so here I am. Turn just a little- ah, yes perfect. I have something more permanent lined up in my field of choice. The interview is tomorrow, actually. What about you? Alan mentioned that you're one of his most regular clients. What's with all the suits?"

"I work for the District Attorney's office." He could smell her perfume, or shampoo, he wasn't certain. Whatever it was it smelled of lavender and lemon and it was divine.

"Well, that certainly explains it."

"I hope you don't have anything against lawyers."

"I like to evaluate them all on an individual basis. Besides, you seem nice enough, and your taste is impeccable. I can see why Alan speaks so highly of you." Her eyes flashed up to his for a moment, her hands completely still for a few heartbeats.

"Careful, compliments go to my head."

"I think I can handle myself. Ah, there, we're done."

"So soon?" He smirked, and she laughed, heading back up to the front while he changed. He met her at the counter, his suits waiting for him. He paid and signed the receipt, handing it back.

"It was a pleasure, Rafael."

"Likewise." He lingered, deciding to play off the confidence he felt. There was something there, it was small, but he felt it when he looked into her eyes.

"How would you feel about getting a cup of coffee tomorrow? After your interview? You can tell me all about it. I'm an excellent listener."

"That sounds great. May I?" She held out her hand and into it he placed his phone, her fingers moving quickly over the keyboard. She handed it back, smiling broadly. "Now you have my number. Text me."

The entire cab ride back to his apartment went by in a strange blur that was spent looking at the text message she had sent from his phone to hers. The urge to text her prematurely plagued him all night, but he persisted on, feeling ridiculous that he was so affected by their meeting. He was forty – six and yet somehow he felt exactly the way he had at seventeen before he asked Sofia Lorenzo to prom. He was sitting on the edge of his bed when he finally gave in, sending a simple ' _Good luck tomorrow.'_ before he called it a night.

The next morning he woke to two unread texts on his phone, the corners of his lips turning up as he read them.

' _Thank you, councilor._ ' And, ' _I'm glad to see your still thinking about me_.'

After a long morning in court they met around three in a quiet corner of a cafe near his office, sitting across from each other at a small table. He drank black coffee with sugar while Margo sipped on a latte, a smile plastered on her face the entire time, her head high. Things had gone well during the interview.

"It was more of a formality, if we're being honest. The head of the department retires in a month and I'll be stepping into to take his place. It's all very exciting. It's supposed to be a very smooth transition, but somehow I doubt that."

"When you say head of the department?"

"I'm a technical analyst with a background in a similar environment. Legally, I'm not sure how much more I can say."

"You should let me be the judge of that."

She wiggled a little in her seat, clearing her throat as a flush crept up her face. "I worked for the Bureau for eight years, but that life was… difficult. I wanted to come home, slow down a bit."

"You're what, 28? How have you been working anywhere for eight years?"

" _27,_ and that's where the legality of this conversation starts to muddle. If you stick around long enough, maybe I'll tell you."

"Does that mean you'd like to see me again?"

"I would, yes. Unless… my age is an issue for you?"

"No. I'd like to get to get to know you better. You're bright and kind, and slightly mysterious. I won't deny that my work has made me… more cautious, but we're both legal consenting adults."

"That we are."

"I take it your age has been something of a hindrance in the past? I can only imagine what it was like in the FBI."

There was a hint of sarcasm in his voice that she picked up on, earning him an overdramatic look of betrayal from across the table.

"Hey, I'm not lying! I can prove it."

"So, you have evidence to support your case?"

"Oh, just you wait. You're going to feel awful about all of this." She stuck her arm into her bag, smiling as she produced a slim black wallet. "Technically, I still have to be available to consult on cases, so I got to keep my I.D." She slid the credentials across the table into Rafael's hands where he proceeded to open and inspect them. He was no expert, but they didn't appear to be fake. It was completely baffling, but he could see she was telling the truth by the way she moved and spoke. Either way, it was easy enough to verify, and it was something he resolved to do at his earliest opportunity.

"You realize none of this makes _any_ sense, right?"

"That's just part of the mystery."


End file.
